


The night is dark and full of terrors; dawn is rising and so is Sansa's blushing

by direwolfofhighgarden



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Inspired By Tumblr, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 18:58:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1521956
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/direwolfofhighgarden/pseuds/direwolfofhighgarden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa marries Loras, and though everyone expects a happy marriage, the Tyrell siblings have other plans in mind.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The night is dark and full of terrors; dawn is rising and so is Sansa's blushing

**Author's Note:**

> Hello everyone! Yes, I most definitely tried writing it. It was a mighty need, and I'm impatient trash, so I wrote it myself...
> 
> ["gothvader: i want a fic about sansa getting married to loras and margaery to renly then when everyone else is asleep margaery and loras high five each other every night when they meet in the corridor whilst changing rooms and they live happily ever after"](http://lorastyrell.co.vu/post/69347366966/i-want-a-fic-about-sansa-getting-married-to-loras/)
> 
> For simplicity's sake, Margaery didn't meet Joffrey, didn't marry him, blaaah blahhhh. Renly is still alive, and he will continue to be so in order to maintain the validity of this happy story because YES, NOTHING WRONG HERE. EVERYTHING IS FINE, EVERYONE IS ALIVE.
> 
> So... that atrocious title? Yes, that travesty of a title. It could always be so much worse, I could have named it "Winter is coming and so is Margaery". Just remember that.

_In the sight of the Seven, I hereby seal these two souls, binding them as one, for eternity. Look upon one another and say the words._

“Father, Smith, Warrior, Mother, Maiden, Crone, Stranger... I am his, and he is mine. _I am hers, and she is mine._ From this day, until the end of my days.”

Sansa hadn't seen when House Tyrell joined forces with House Baratheon. It was a surefire attempt for the Tyrells to gain power through their vessel of Margaery, and it had been strange that they supported Renly's cause to the throne. Nonetheless, the deed had been done, and Sansa was now facing the beautiful Knight of Flowers, almost more pretty on this day than she was.

The sept broke in loud applause, and she kissed the surprisingly soft lips of her knight. She had told herself that throughout her life, this was the moment that she had dreamed of many nights in the North. She stood before her chivalrous knight and he saved her from malice, but Sansa still did not feel entirely right with his cloak wrapped around her. Loras smiled easily at Sansa and turned to the crowd as he took her hand. She immediately spotted Margaery in the wave of faces, the find not difficult as she sat in the front with her family. There was an unsettling feeling in Sansa's stomach, and she could neither look for too long, nor look away from the Tyrell girl as she walked down the aisle arm-in-arm with Loras.

Just like her brother, she smiled sweetly at Sansa. Besides this, her face was blank and Sansa could not decipher any further expression from her face. Loras looked at his wife as if he encouraged her to keep walking.

“My lady,” he said. “Look not so weary. We've still the guests to attend to, so much entertaining and amusement.”

She forced a smile on her lips and exchanged his gaze. He continued talking to her in somewhat of a hushed tone. “I'm not one for receptions myself actually. It's a tiring abundance of excessive merriment and extravagance; just fluff and nonsense, really. Surely you must be hungry though.”

Sansa smiled in spite of herself but kept her reservation still. “I do suppose I am rather hungry, you didn't happen to hear my stomach did you?”

Almost concerned, the light in Loras' eyes shifted instantly at her words and his voice remained subdued. “Why, I thought that had been my own?”

Composed and well-postured, he continued smiling and nodding to the people as they finally reached the door and Sansa felt her mood seeming to improve.

 

The feast had been a spectacle, as it was expected to be, and Sansa finally revelled in the noise and not being the centre of attention. When she looked at Loras, he was pleasant and gallant just as he always was, but he seemed to have lingered for too long on the table of his family where Renly Baratheon and his sister were eating. Sansa followed his gaze and saw Margaery Tyrell, the champion of the people, giggling at something he had said and sharing food with her husband. A pang of jealousy shot through Sansa and she straightened up, hoping that Loras hadn't felt her newly stirred envy. Yet, he too sat taller and raised his chin as if in subtle defiance.

Before Sansa could muse longer at his expression, any of her thoughts had been interrupted when a mane of golden locks that seemed to rival Loras' had made its way into her sight. The queen regent stood before them, waiting to be granted to approach and continued when Loras stared at her with a look of wariness and slight indifference, this seeming to be his approval.

She was carrying an elaborate fabric, Sansa now seeing that it was a quilt of vibrant colours and a material that even looked gentle at the touch.

“For the little dove, and her knight.” Cersei glanced at her gift as if pointing attention to the item and back at Sansa. “Did I not tell you that you would have your happy ending?” She smiled so bitterly that the lack of effort pained Sansa.

“It's a magical thing truly, though it's not much as I would have liked to have given. As you share chambers for the first time tonight you may place this under yourself, dear Sansa.” She paused, making sure Sansa and Loras were listening as the brief silence emphasized her intentions. “The rest of your fabrics need not be tainted, this blanket can easily gather up all the mess and may be washed easily. It's meant to be washed. It's made to be washed numerous times over in fact.”

Loras had taken a sip from his chalice, never breaking eye contact with the golden woman and blinked several times before he replied. “Thank you, and do send our thanks to the king in waiting.”

She seemed to have voluntarily forgotten her formality now and she eased the blanket on the table. “Joffrey would have loved to be here, but felt his presence was much needed elsewhere. As it is, he has a lot to learn for his responsibilities on the iron throne.”

“For when he does sit his soft arse on that stone, if at all.”

Sansa shot a look to Loras who seemed so at ease, she had thought the wine had made him bolder and was thinking to intervene and spare him. Before any confrontation could occur, if it hadn't already, Cersei had left and disappeared into the crowd. A smirk appeared on Loras' face now, and he laughed jovially as he continued eating. Sansa saw Margaery at her table staring at Loras, a mix of quizzical wonder and seething with sharp anger. She knew well enough that the look was the affect of the Lannister woman's encounter and had nothing to do with the boy's jest.

“Are you excited to finally have an actual bed to sleep on?” Loras spoke, and Sansa had become certain that the excess of drink had made him more vocal and liberal. He kept his voice controlled despite his audacious conversation. “I'm sure silk and cotton are ever the luxury compared to the carcass the Lannister witch probably granted you.”

Sansa widened her eyes, glancing over to Margaery who was simultaneously entertaining Renly and carefully eyeing the newlyweds. “Of course it is, my lord. I am humbled by anything you may give me.”

“Please, for the love of the seven, do call me Loras. I am telling you right now I will go absolutely mad if you do not regard me as your friend.”

“My lor- uh, Loras. You are too kind to me.”

“We ought to get very acquainted with each other, Sansa. We are family now. Everything is shared.” Sansa made an effort for another smile, and succeeded as much as she could to affirm Loras' words. She had forgotten her food and lost her appetite, not so much her husband who had returned to his plate as if he had just discovered it.

“The vows are but one thing,” he said as he ate contentedly. “Acting on the love is another story entirely.”

 

Her lord had been away for quite the time, and Sansa tried to avoid staring at the blanket gifted from Cersei as it sat wherever it was as loud and intrusive as if a creature had been prancing around the room. She was awfully nervous and knew that it was a lady's duty to take her man on the night of their wedding. She could not help but feel uncomfortable more of the blanket than being with Loras for the night. She started to realize that the woman tactfully gave them the gift to rouse whispers and talks when the blanket would not be bled on.

But of course, it had to have blood on it, and Sansa had prepared herself for this night. She remembered the fantasies she would have as a small child, dreaming of a faceless knight who would save her, and that she would go willingly to him. Yet, she felt uneasy and restless, and shamed herself for now doubting what she knew she wanted for nearly all her life.

 

There were distant shadows in the corridor, and the silence of the castle pierced into the night. Soft steps made their way to the middle of the vast corridor and Loras emerged from a hidden threshold, coming up behind his sister.

“Damned!” Margaery spun around, her breath catching into her throat and her heart leaping from her chest.

Loras laughed, and lowered his joy to a chuckle immediately upon feeling his sister's fist smack into his arm. “You act as if you just assassinated a Lannister.”

She spoke quickly with a hushed whisper, annoyance and caution colouring her tone. “You will be right murdered by one if anyone hears you. Keep quiet!”

“Don't be so mean, sister. Not even you could expect me to be so stoic and dull as I have been today. The entire affair had been so excruciating. I was on my best behaviour.”

“Yes, you handled the queen regent so majestically, you did. If you've ceased breathing by morning, we'll know just how graceful you were today. What even did you say to her?”

“Only what needed to be said. You know I cannot speak lies.”

“Oh, you don't speak lies, do you. Did you tell Sansa everything then?”

“My lady? No, I said nothing of the sort to her. I could not tell a lie, dear rose. I merely omitted the truth, as was our plan.”

Margaery was examining her brother now, always challenged by his tact and mischief. She was equally as tactful and mischievous as him, and now it was perhaps what annoyed her as well.

“You are rather the pain most days.”

“I benefit equally from this just as much as you, of course I'll seize any opportunity to annoy you. We both need each other.”

She was smiling now, impatient and amused all the same. “Okay, okay! Be swift now, I've no time for our antics. We will quarrel and waste time then dawn will come.”

“Go quickly to your lady, she could not handle a second of my banter.”

“I don't blame her in the slightest.”

Loras had turned around before she finished her sentence, and was making his way to Margaery's chambers with a skip in his step. She grinned and rolled her eyes, the tenderness and rivalry shared between them still surprising her. She made her way to Loras' room and knocked promptly. With her hand on the handle, she waited only momentarily before easing the door open as she was welcomed by a shy voice.

“My lord, you return.”

“I wasn't aware that I'd ever arrived to have left in the first place.”

Sansa spun around abruptly, dressed modestly and comfortably in her sleeping gown. She did not hide her shock as her mouth dropped and her eyes grew wider.

Margaery, grinning wildly as she basked in Sansa's dumbfounded silence, stood sheepishly at the door and kept distance between them.

“Will you allow me to enter?”

Sansa still stood with her arms helplessly dropped to her sides, her mouth trying to form incoherent words and her voice seeming to fail her. All she could muster was a breath that escaped her, to her safety or demise. “Yes.”

Margaery closed the door softly behind her as she made her way towards Sansa. She had a comfortable, but utterly charming sleeping gown on. Its modesty was in its comfort and in what seemed to be its simple laces for when a lady wanted to abandon it completely. Her chest had generous room to feel the chill of the bedchamber and her breasts filled the fabric lustfully.

She could feel Sansa's eyes on her and smiled coyly at her just as she spotted the quilt.

“We ought to take care of that.” She was much closer to Sansa now, staring intently into her eyes and watching Sansa struggle to keep eye contact. “We can't let you walk away without consummating your marriage.”

Sansa was finding her voice, choosing words that would align with her thoughts, but it was to no avail. “How... what. Did you know? Does Loras, who... how did you know?”

“Sansa,” Margaery was speaking gently, she took Sansa's hand and sat her down on the edge of the bed just as she settled beside her.

“Some women like tall men, some like short men, some like hairy men and some like bald men. Gentle men, rough men, ugly men, pretty men, pretty girls.” She paused, savouring Sansa's alertness the moment she spoke the last words. “But I am not blind to the ways of my brother loving Renly.”

She was toying with Sansa's hair now, leaning in closer to smell Sansa's light perfume. “Most women don't know what they like until they've tried it, and sadly, so many of us get to try so little before we're old and grey.”

Margaery, ever the expert in tact was no stranger to the ways of the bedroom. “I know when you linger on me, and I see how you jump out of your sadness just for a moment when you hear me call you. It delights me. It delights me to know that I can make you happy just briefly. Your pain disheartens me. You are always so sad and I wish I could do more for you.”

Sansa hastily interjected, afraid of having offended the lady. “You do make me happy. All the time. I- nevermind. I shouldn't have spoken, I'm just so surprised.”

“I know, sweet girl. I truly just want you to be happy. But if you don't want me here tonight, I can leave. If it pleases you, you know I would leave."

“You don't have to leave. I don't want you to.”

Margaery smiled thoughtfully, seeming to dwell on reflection.

“We ought to do what we can. Why can't we indulge in what the gods have made just as much as any other man does? Women are wonderful, men are wonderful, and we have life. The Dornish people celebrate that all, they got that right.”

She had snapped herself out of her trance and was tracing her finger lightly on Sansa's lips now, staring in spite of herself tenderly as she lost herself in the sight. “If something is so good, why let it spoil and waste?”

Margaery leaned close to Sansa's face, breathing lightly through her lips as she waited for Sansa's consent. Sansa realized what Margaery was waiting for and closed the distance as she placed her lips on Margaery's. Softer than Margaery could have imagined, she savoured the taste of Sansa's lips as she felt the cool of the North and the sadness that King's Landing had wrought all at once, and this made her kiss her delicately as the passion rose in her. Margaery had a had on Sansa's thigh, the other wrapped in Sansa's auburn streaks. In between their kisses, she spoke to Sansa as if she hadn't been interrupted.

“There are people who don't like the idea of anyone else but themselves enjoying life.” She spoke breathless, barely audible to Sansa. “But what good then is life without living?”

Sansa nudged Maragery onto the bed as the girl fell easily, surprising even herself. She remained silent as she continued submitting into the moment and Margaery filled the silences.

“I can take care of you now, Sansa. I really can.”

Their movements grew increasingly fervent, their kisses more comfortable and eager as Sansa settled on top of Margaery.

“Sansa, would you let me?”

Sansa's hands were searching messily as they worked to release Margaery from her gown. Not breaking her kisses, she had made her way to Margaery's neck, carefully placing nibbles behind her ear and below her collarbone as Margaery melted beneath her.

“I am yours. I would let you do anything.”

Margaery broke out in a smile, sincerity settling over her fantastically. She had been unsure of what Sansa's response would be, having been apprehensive of this moment for months, and she would pause to sentimentalize and thank Sansa, just so grateful that everything in general had worked out. She was so overwhelmed with the somewhat foreign feeling of relief, and she loved the girl more. She was stopped before she could speak as a smooth hand found itself under her dress. A gasp escaped from her and the hand explored diligently the new territory presented to it. All Margaery could handle now was a whisper, her breaths escaping her consistently.

“And I'm yours.”

Sansa smiled now, looking down at Margaery red in the face and breathing just as fragmented. In another instant, the girls were hastily searching for each other's laces, escaping the fabric as if it had kept them apart entirely.

They spent the hours loving each other, tossing and flipping as they both took control. Margaery had never really experienced not being in control, but secretly basked whenever Sansa urged for power.

Drifting into sleep, they enveloped themselves into each other, arms wrapped around each other as the fragments of dawn crept slowly onto the windows.

“Sansa,” Margaery spoke softly as she prodded Sansa awake. “I must return to my chambers. Loras will be here soon.”

Sansa, still groggy from her sleep, understood little of what Margaery spoke, but the girl was patient with her.

“Sweet love, I'll be gone, but only for a moment. Soon it will be morning and we can see each other again. We'll go for our walks and we can do whatever you wish. Would you like that?” She got up and kissed Sansa's forehead and her lips. She took her hand and kissed her wrist, held it, and watched Sansa in her slumber. She smiled and kissed her hand before she set it down carefully.

There were voices coming from the distance that could be heard from the window, and several steps were heard beyond the corridor to signal the rise of the castle. Margaery swore to herself and took her gown, struggling in spite of herself and rushing to put it on. Without thinking, she had grabbed the blanket gift and wrapped it around her chest, not successful with her sleeping gown as she stepped as silently as she could to the door.

She saw her brother in the hallway, dressed in foreign trousers and a shirt she had not seen before. He grinned maniacally as he beheld his sister, the Lannister gift shielding her modesty and her gown hanging from gods knew what. She was struggling as she gathered all the fabrics among her, keeping them in place with a hand and preventing herself from tripping on them with another.

Snickering and witnessing his sister battling the fabrics, Loras forgot about his shirt as they closed the distance in the corridor.

“A progressive look! Perhaps I should try it for myself.” Loras was beaming magnificently and made a point to eye the blankets. From where she was, Margaery could see her brother staring savagely at the blanket, knowing he would not let her forget the moment.

“It's merely luck that you have. Your saving grace is that women's garments pale in comparison with regards to practicality.”

Nonetheless, when they met in the middle, they raised their hands and shared a high five, Margaery playfully smacking his underside and Loras attempting to pull at the blanket. She glared at him over her shoulder as he mimicked her gathering the fabrics, and she ran quickly to her own room. Thrill rushed through her body at the thought of Sansa waking up very soon.


End file.
